No. 10: Jeff Wilson (part Two)

Jeff and I discuss being the youngest in teams, his All Black career, the difference between cricket and rugby dressing rooms, his return to cricket and the influence of his father.

I hope Jeff still has this cap

You were often the youngest in the team - his nickname was Bubs when we played. How did that affect you?

I count myself incredibly fortunate to have been in environments that were safe, encouraging and supportive. I grew up in a club [Appleby in Invercargill] where there was a real nurturing of the families involved. It was a community - long hours, long nights. Even when I played for Southland at 18, and I was going on tour with ‘men who don't get away from Southland very often’ [Jeff’s voice drops an octave]. It was as an education but I was still doing schoolwork. I didn't drink when I was younger - one of the selectors coached with my dad in club rugby so the hard word was put on them: “You don’t offer him anything to drink. There is no pressure on him.” Maybe that's because they didn’t want a run-in with my old man.

Here’s another example. I had been picked to play for Otago [cricket]. I was 18 and had just got my learner's licence. We were going to Dunedin Airport and Richard Hoskin said, “Well, you can drive.” I’d only been driving for about a week! We got to a hill in Balclutha and we ended up stuck in traffic. I had a truck in front of me and a truck behind me. Needless to say, I screwed the hill start. I was revving the engine, yanking on the handbrake, but I rolled into the truck behind me and smashed the window of Hocker’s car. He didn't even think twice. “It was an accident. No drama.” We got out and talked to the truckie. No-one got angry at me.

Another time in Wellington, I leaned on an elevator door in our hotel and it swung in as the elevator came up and there was a hell of a crash. Our manager just said, “Don't worry about it. We'll take care of it.” I got myself into these situations but the people around me didn’t make a big deal out of it. They might have been small things, but when you're young, they felt big. You feel you might have let people down because you've done something stupid. That’s not to say they didn't put me in my place every now and again … but they never knocked my confidence. They always knew that I would fight for them and never quit, so they had my back. It was incredibly supportive.

Did you have to grow up before your time - because of the limelight and expectations?

The All Blacks’ environment was different because the expectations were so very high. When I was first selected, I made the team instead of Sir John Kirwan - one of the greats of our game. He was dropped and I was going on tour with a whole lot of his team-mates. Laurie Mains and Earle Kirton were in charge so there was plenty of support, but there was definitely an element of pressure to perform and contribute. It was an unbelievable experience, but I kicked like a dog in my second Test against England and we lost. I never went over there as a kicker but then I was given the responsibility. I didn’t play against South Africa or France in ‘94 and then played against Australia - the infamous George Gregan tackle. So my record stood at 1-2. It was a tough start.

You’re never sure if you can come back from there. But that was where the benefit of going back into the Otago environment kicked in. We had a special group of people - Gordon Hunter (the coach), Des Smith (the manager) and some really gifted individuals. They taught me resilience, a toughness, but also how to enjoy the game. Had I not gone back into that Otago environment after the George Gregan incident, I’m not sure what would have happened. They brought me back into the fold. It was, “Great to see you back. Let’s go and win a national title.” I was very fortunate.

It was a family in many ways - the underdogs, an Us against Them. We didn’t win every game but we had great support because of the way we played. We were everyone’s second team. I was lucky to play in both the amateur and professional era and the game was exciting to play in those days. It was open and fast, compared to the game it became when I finally said I’d had enough. The game died between 2000-2009. It turned to the Dark Side - the defensive side - in my view. Teams won World Cups because they could scrum and kick penalties. I lost interest. When we started practising defence more than attack, the game lost its purpose.

Jeff retired from rugby at 28

There was a combination of factors. Physically, things were getting a little tougher - I’d had a couple of ankle operations, and there was always a ‘What if?’ with cricket. And if I was going to try, I had to do it then. I wasn’t in favour with the All Black coaches but I'd probably done enough to get another crack. I just wasn't enjoying it. I knew that I was coming to the end, and 28 is the magic number for a winger in the All Blacks. Most guys struggle to get past 28. There’s a number who have retired at around that age [Julian Savea, Doug Howlett, Joe Rokocoko]. The next generation of players come along, and they're all younger and faster.

We discussed Jeff’s transition out of rugby and back to cricket. I had been overseas when Jeff had made his comeback. He holds the record for the longest gap between appearances - almost 12 years. I asked how the game had moved on in those years.

I really struggled with the speed when I came back to cricket. I’d spent near on a decade of playing for 80 minutes and training to play 60 to 80 minutes. So when you've done that for so long your brain is wired to think like this [he clicks his fingers repeatedly] the whole time. In rugby, generally there are only three things that will happen next. Trouble is, those plays are continuous. So bang! something happens, then one of three things will happen. And so on. Put them all together and it’s hundreds of things but once you've played enough games, you can anticipate what will happen next.

The trouble with cricket is there's a pause and then there's a pause … and when you're batting, there's a long period of time where you're not involved at all. I struggled because I couldn't disengage from the game. I might be batting seven or eight and I was engaged from ball one! By the time I went out to bat, I was cooked. I'd faced every single delivery, watched every run-out, the dropped catches. I’d get out there and I was mentally drained. Aside from the fact that my body was struggling to bowl again, I found the mental side really challenging. I couldn't just switch on and off. I wasn't so bad in the field but I could just imagine what a pain I was in the dressing room. People used to tell me to go for a walk … out of the ground, not around it! Ten years of rugby and I was waiting for the momentum to shift at any moment, but in cricket, it’s not relevant to you until you have the bat or ball in hand. It really was a struggle, and when I came back I also just had a few too many niggles. I couldn't get into the rhythm of playing consistently, to feel that deep down confidence where you can fall back on years of practice and training. The gap was too big.

I came back in [to the Blackcaps] at the end of a generation of players - Craig McMillan, Nathan Astle, Flem. Look, I'm not 100% sure … Actually, I am 100% sure. I don't think I should have been in that team to play against Australia in New Zealand in 2005. But for whatever reason, the selectors, Braces [John Bracewell] and Turns [Glenn Turner], thought I could add some value to that group. I'd been playing well and shown some signs, but by the same token, I was still struggling physically.

The other aspect I really struggled with … Rugby is very much a team sport and even at the provincial level, cricket still feels like it's a team, but at the international level, everyone has their own room. You'd only see the whole group together at practice and at game time. Guys would disappear and then come back in. They were great cricketers and I felt privileged to play with Dan Vettori, Brendon McCullum and watch them go about their work. I just wasn’t sure … I hadn't played a lot of them consistently at first class level because they were usually away playing for New Zealand. I was the guy who came in and tried to compete. Bondy and Tuffers [Darryl Tuffey] were there and I was watching all of this and going, “This is right at the upper limit of my ability.” I did think for a while it was because Braces just wanted to talk about rugby. [laughs]

We played against a phenomenal Australian team - Lee, Warne, McGrath, Ponting, Gilchrist, Hayden. We got spanked 5-0 and Brett Lee was bowling 158 kmph. It was brutal, scary. I’ve said this to a lot of people: I played against Jonah [Lomu] and don't get me wrong, that was mentally challenging, but I never felt in danger. But I felt danger facing Brett Lee. I just couldn't react quickly enough. You stand there thinking if you get this wrong, this is really going to hurt. It was the same with Bondy. The feeling that ‘I’m not in control of the situation. That person down there with the ball is.’

But I look back and I’m glad I got to play against them. I've seen Ponting a few times at the NZ Golf Open since then, at the Pro-Am, and that he even remembers I played against him is great [laughs]. I played in the first ever T20 international. He probably only remembers me because he hit me for one of the biggest sixes in the history of the game. It hit the lip of the ASB stand at Eden Park. It wasn't the worst ball I’ve ever bowled - it was a good length but you know that pivot-pull he does off his hip? If it hadn’t hit that lip and dropped straight down, it might have ended up in Kingsland. Gilchrist in Wellington hit me into a garden bed towards Courtenay Place, 40 metres over the stalls as you come into the Basin. It was enormous. I got him out with a perceived slower ball - one of Nashy’s slower balls. I just got to the point where I'd been beaten and bashed so hard, I didn't want to let the ball go. It just fell out of my hand really. My first run in international cricket was an outside edge off Shane Warne. Twelve years on, my first international run was an outside edge off Shane Warne. He couldn’t have remembered me otherwise he would have put a slip in [laughs again].

I asked Jeff about the dynamics of the dressing rooms in cricket and rugby. How did they differ?

In cricket, the personalities are so varied because of the nature of the challenges that individuals face. I'd imagine the changing room dynamic hasn't changed too much. I’ve been lucky enough to meet Trent Boult and Tim Southee and they have got bowlers’ personalities. In cricket, you always had the untidy guys - the thigh pad was over there, a shoe over there. And then you’ve got the guys who have everything compartmentalised. I used to love those opening batsmen whose gear was never put away until everybody was out. No matter that they had got out in the third over. You're preparing to go out and bowl, and they start putting their gear away.

I remember my second one day game for New Zealand at Lancaster Park. I ended up in the hallway because I accidentally sat in Hogan's seat [Martin Crowe]. I just went in and sat down and then he came in and put his bag down by the toilet door and said, “I might as well sit in here then.” I was looking around thinking, ‘What's the big deal?’ Everyone else saw me go in and put my bag on Hogan’s seat and no-one said a word. I was 12th man for that game. [laughs]

Initially in rugby, there were pods - the general forward and back thing - when I first made the Otago team, the newbie started off next to the toilet door and worked his way around. You didn’t mess with the natural order of things - one through 15. The forwards and the backs weren’t meant to mix. They're not meant to room together, and when they did, it was a disaster. But then all of a sudden there was a formula to the dressing room - it was set up beforehand and the jerseys were hung up.

The changing rooms are a sacred place. I think their importance is underestimated in some ways. People talk about the experience of actually playing but there’s a lot of fun that happens in changing rooms. Particularly after games of rugby - the culture of having a beer together afterwards and the honesty that comes out. Nowadays, you can leave the performance behind pretty quickly and deal with it later.

They don't do after-matches now. That’s a real shame because I think the after-match function was one of the great traditions of the game. You've just gone at it, you've had a bit of time to regroup, put your number ones on and you can have a beer and a chat … or a debate. Same with the Supporters’ Clubs which used to be a massive part of rugby. We'd play a game, shower up, Supporters’ Club, after-match and then we'd be back into the changing shed for a quick beer before we went out on the town. Dunedin was a wonderful place to be a rugby player in the 90s. Remember these were afternoon games. There was the benefit of time after a three o'clock kick-off. But talking to the opposition, the older generations in the Supporters’ Club, people who have been there for 30 or 40 years - that was one of the great losses for rugby. All of a sudden, they stopped those things and you can no longer get up close up and personal and share a yarn.

Did the collective of rugby lead to a healthier individual.

You’re trying to gain the respect of everyone in the shed, and you can't do it on your own in rugby. On the surface it can look like you’ve had a good or bad game in rugby, but the people who really know are the people in that room. I might have scored three tries but in reality I did very little. Everyone else did all the work and I just ran it in. I did nothing. Then there are other games where I haven't scored a try, but I've assisted in one or two, made covering tackles or covered territory or communicated really well. You rely on everybody and you can't afford to be the weak link. Whereas in cricket, you can control your own destiny and drive your own performance. You rely on others to help you - for example, you can bowl beautifully and have three dropped catches and take none for 60. But on other days, you can perform without them. In cricket, you can isolate a player’s performance - it’s not so easy in rugby.

As a bowler, you can bowl a pie and turn it around with the next delivery, but the world-class batsmen are incredibly resilient. The mental side of it is really, really tough. There aren’t many sports where you don’t have the chance to make it up. In a Test match, there's basically two deliveries in the course of a minute that could decide your impact over five days. They might be batting brilliantly, moving their feet and seeing the ball, smashing it in the nets and all of a sudden the ball hits the seam and moves the exact amount it needs to catch the edge, and they have done nothing wrong. And then it happens again. You sit there and think about it and watch other people score your runs! It is character-building. Or soul-destroying.

In his book, Jeff was very open about the key partnership and relationship he had with his Dad.

Rugby was never the same once Dad passed away. People always have someone. That someone might not necessarily be their Dad. It could be your Mum or a coach, or a brother, but usually you have someone you can trust and confide in. I could have conversations with my coaches, my players and my peers because I had conversations with my Dad. We talked about the tactics and theory of the game. I could play a game and have what I thought was a good game, but the person I wanted to hear from was Dad. “What did you think?” Generally our assessments were the same but then we went back to the video to confirm a few things. “Why didn't you do that? or “Why did you do this?”

He passed at the end of ‘98 and I was still in the middle of an All Black career. All of a sudden the conversations weren’t the same because we had been going through that journey together. Some people have asked, “Was he living through you?” But I reply, “No, not in any way, shape, or form.” He didn't go to a huge number of test matches. He only went to the local ones - Dunedin or Christchurch. He didn't travel, he didn't want to. He was quite happy watching them on television. Dad never made a big deal out of my career - it was almost a ‘Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves here’ approach.

But once I lost that conversation and started moving further away from it, I realised what I was missing. I’d reached the stage where I was really not enjoying rugby - it was boring and I didn’t like the look of the future. I think at some point, he may have said, “Maybe you should go back and have another have a go at cricket.” When I was going through his loss, I was glad that I left to take up the challenge [of cricket]. I’m proud that I gave it a crack and to have made it back to the top is something I cherish. I think he would have loved that.